


Firestone

by lrceleste



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Canon Compliant, Fluff, Just adding characters who speak, M/M, Spoilers, Trans Character, but the story and characters remain unaltered, might have to change the rating later..., nearly everyone gets a little nod, to a degree I mess with some things to make it more interesting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-20
Updated: 2015-02-21
Packaged: 2018-03-13 23:05:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3399614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lrceleste/pseuds/lrceleste
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>"Bright, like the fish that kill you if you eat them. Can't hate you for hiding if you burn so brilliantly."</i><br/>Taming fire can get you burned, but that was never a concern for Kadan Adaar, after all he's a pyromancer. (Contains spoilers galore)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Last Resorts

**Author's Note:**

> This was meant to be a silly self indulgent thing that ended up 4000 words long that I may or may not continue dependant on its reception, so if you enjoy it please let me know. In case you were wondering the title is largely based on the song I was listening to at the time, [Firestone by Kygo](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jbZusVDBf4A) not my usual type of music but the rythm seemed to fit strangely for most of this chapter.
> 
> I feel like I need to make a comment explaining that the likelihood of this series ever being completed is zero to none. I've started another Dorian/Inquisitor series that I'm focusing all of my energy on, but I can't bring myself to delete this.

Kadan takes a deep breath at the bottom of the steps and he can almost feel Solas shaking his head behind him. He’s ascended these stairs far too frequently for the mage not to notice. This time is different though, usually he would just sit with Dorian for a while, sometimes both of them so engrossed in their respective book that the conversation died down to near silence, but it was always comfortable. Other times they must keep the elf up with their laughter. Of course he spends a lot of time flitting between his companions in the inner circle, being the inquisitor demands strong relations. Dorians like the teacher’s pet, or the rebel, the herald can’t decide. His sarcasm and unapologetic commentary earns him scolding’s, and are one of the reasons they spend more time together, but at the same time it’s clear to the majority of the inner circle that Dorian has pride of place at the front of the class, that he sometimes receives special treatment because he’s favourite.

The letter burns in Kadan’s fingertips, perhaps his wit has gained him favour with the inquisitor but there are still many who mistrust the ‘vint. Mother Giselle being a prime example.  She’d tried to convince ‘the herald of Andraste’ to keep the letter a secret, but surely he had a right to know.

Ascending the stairs the qunari caught sight of the mage, stood by one of the book shelves, stood in the pensive way you could often find him, chin resting on his forefinger and thumb. It was becoming harder to quell the heat in the pit of his stomach every time the Vashoth laid eyes on the altus mage, but he could imagine that was a common reaction amongst most people, even those who still distrusted him couldn’t deny the fact that he was an exceptionally beautiful specimen of the human species, and he knew that all too well, it was what allowed him to flirt with anything that retained a beating heart, very often without consequence.

“Dorian.” Kadan half asks. He knows that Dorian must have seen him coming, with his size sneaking is almost entirely out of the question, however the mage as of yet hasn’t turned to look at him, instead he plucks a book from the shelf, inspecting its back.

A smile eventually pulls at his lips as he says, “You know, you spend more time in my library than in your own quarters. If you keep at it there will be rumours.”

“You do realise this is _the inquisitions_ library.” Kadan almost means to go on to point out that as the inquisit _or_ it actually makes it more his library than Dorian’s. But from what he’s gathered now isn’t the time to beat around the bush. “Dorian. There’s a letter you need to see.”

“A letter?” He asks with a cocked eyebrow. “Is it a naughty letter? A proposal from some Antivan dowager?” He chuckles at the prospect, replacing the book on the shelf.

“I’m afraid not. It’s from your father.”

“My father. I see.” Dorian’s fingers fall away from the book and he finally he turns to look at the qunari, his arms crossed over his chest. “And what does Magister Halward want, pray tell?”

“A meeting.” Kadan answers as he hands Dorian the parchment.

He watches with trepidation as Dorian paces back and forth in his little nook, narrowly avoiding piles of books as his eyes are trained on the letter.

“’I know my son.’” He eventually sneers. “What my father knows about me would barely fill a thimble. This is so typical. You know, I’m willing to bet this retainer is a henchman, hired to knock me on the head and drag me back to Tevinter.”

“You think your father would do that?” Kadan asks. He was aware that Dorian didn’t have the best relationship with his family, but he wasn’t aware of the extent. Of what he’d read of the letter, it seemed sincere enough.

“No… Although, I wouldn’t put it past him.”

“What should we do?”

“We go. Let’s meet this ‘family retainer’. If it’s a trap we escape and kill everyone, you’re good at that!” He paces towards Kadan pointing as if his ability to deal with enemies is a sudden epiphany of his. With a shrug and a flick of his wrist he continues, “But if it’s not, we send the man back to my father with the message he can stick his alarm in his ‘wits end’.”

“So there’s bad blood between you and your family?”

He gives a sharp laugh, “Interesting turn of phrase… But you’re correct, they don’t care for my choices, or I for there’s.”

Kadan tries to mull over that sentence for as long as possible before it become socially unacceptable to leave Dorian waiting. “Why? Because you wouldn’t get married? Because you left?”

“That too.”

Kadan knew there were plenty of gaps in his knowledge about the Tevinter mage, and it was when he said things like this that it became glaringly obvious he knew the man little more than those who distrusted him, and what he did know, his particular skill with necromancy and ability to charm his way out of many situations weren’t exactly traits that would put one at ease.

“Fine. I think we should go and meet with this guy, find out exactly what he wants.”

“I didn’t ask what you thought, did I?” Dorian questions sharply. The qunari folds his thick arms over his equally expansive chest, his eyebrows rising, Dorian knows it’s none threatening but he’s already regretting his sharp tongue. “That… was unworthy. I apologize. Let’s just see what comes of this.”

-

It’s a three day trek to the Hinterlands where the retainer agreed to meet, and the travel is awkwardly silent. The comfort Kadan had grown used to has vanished. Cole seems blissfully unaware, but the inquisitor knows that can’t be true. Bull can see that the closer they get to Redcliffe the more tense Dorian becomes, and even without ben-hassrath training Kadan can clearly see it too, so surely someone who can see inside your head could see that Dorian isn’t behaving like his usual self. Kadan knows it’s only a matter of time before Cole says something and when he glances at Bull he knows that the two Qunaris are on the same wave length. Unfortunately they might need a rogue, and bringing Sera would have been even more of a disaster waiting to happen.

Kadan wished he’s pulled Varric away from whatever he’d been doing at the time. He’d been too eager to get on the road, to get away from Skyhold because if he knew Dorian (and only the maker knew because he was having doubts) he would-

“Dorian.” Cole’s voice says in his usual hushed tones. It’s not what Kadan had been anticipating, and Redcliffe is almost within sight. “You said I could ask questions.”

“It’s true.” Dorian states with a sigh. “I did say that, but perhaps now isn’t the best time.”

“Why are you so angry at you father?” Everyone’s been thinking it, and it half surprises the inquisitor that Cole is the one with the balls to ask it. “He wants to help and you know he does, but-“

“I’m not certain I can explain it to you.”

“You love him, but you’re angry. They mix together, boiling in the belly until it kneads into a knot.”

“Sometimes…” Dorian begins with venom in his tone. Kadan turns to watch him; he doesn’t know what to offer, a hand, a hug? The scowl disappears from Dorians features as he sighs. “Sometimes love isn’t enough Cole.”

Instead Kadan looks to the road ahead. His life is complicated enough, and it appears that Dorian’s is too, there’s no need for him to try and rope his feelings into it.

They reach the tavern soon enough and it’s a mixed feeling of relief and dread that mingles amongst them. Bull and Cole wait outside with the instruction to enter only if there’s screaming, “Doesn’t matter whose it is, they’re probably Venatori and they could flank two mages easily.”

“I’m anticipating a trap so let’s get this over and done with quickly.” Dorian instructs.

As Bull and Cole sauntered off Bull looking more natural whilst the spirit followed him like a tail, Kadan turns to follow Dorian into the tavern. They’d expected at least some patrons, perhaps for the venatori to even disguise themselves, but the entire room was empty. Even the shadows that the lanterns left could easily be signed off as free of assassins.

“Uh-oh. Nobody’s here, this doesn’t bode well.”

“Dorian.” Kadan sees the man before Dorian does and wonders if he should draw his staff, this magic already humming in his fingertips, but he can recognise features, dark hair, coffee skina and familiar eyes, even if they are aged. Dorian turns slowly to face him.

“Father.” The word holds no love as it slips from Dorians lips. Disgust twists his handsome features the likes Kadan had never seen, not even when they were trudging through the Fallow Mire. “So the whole story about the family retainer? A smoke screen?”

“Then you were told… I’m sorry for the deception inquisitor. I never intended for you to be involved.” The magister stumbles slightly in his words and Kadan is reminded of the war that rages between the Qunari and Tevinter, an issue that never truly rose between himself and Dorian.

The qunari almost made a remark; there were so many hanging on his tongue. Does my presence bother you? You should be apologizing to Dorian? Is it my species or my title that bothers you? Instead Dorian spoke.

“Of course not. Magister Pavus couldn’t come to Skyhold and be seen with the dread inquisitor. What _would_ people think? So what is this, ambush? Kidnapping? Warm-family reunion?” He puts the most malice behind the latter, making the first two sound preferable in comparison.

The magister sighs, looking to the inquisitor. “This is how it has always been.”

The qunari looks around in exasperation. “Why are you talking to me? You did all of this to get Dorian here, right? Then talk to _him?_ ”

“Yes, father. Talk to me, tell me how mystified you are by my anger.”

“Dorian, there’s no need to-”

Dorian looks to you over his shoulder, and you find yourself wishing you’d remained outside, since you’re becoming the centre of the conversation, but then Dorian speaks.

“I prefer the company of men. My father disapproves.”

Kadan is silent for a moment too long. He knows it when Dorian turns his body a little, the scowl on his beautiful features smoothing out into disappointment. It’s just that, there have been rumours; of course there have been rumours. Dorian is handsome and has a sense of fashion, and he’s good with a staff, all sorts of things, stupid stereotypes. The qunari’s whole life has been fighting off one stereotype after another, so he never indulged in the rumours, he waited to hear it straight from the mages mouth, but it never came, and as such, he continued to believe the rumours to be lies. This was it. Dorian had built up a wall and for one single moment a chink had been made in his concrete armour.

 “So, it’s a big thing for ‘vints too?”

“Too? Well, yes when you’re trying to live up to an impossible standard. Every Tevinter family is intermarrying to distil the perfect mage, perfect body, perfect mind. The perfect leader. It means every perceived flaw is deviant and shameful. It must be hidden.” If looks could kill Kadan would not bet on Halwards life.

“Care to elaborate on the whole… Company of men thing?” The qunari means to be light hearted, to reveal the gaps in his own defences, but it comes out wrong.

“Did I stutter?” He asks the scowl returning to his features. “Men and the company thereof as in sex, surely you’ve heard of it.”

“I-I’ve more than heard of it.”

Dorian barks out a laugh. For a moment a smile has returned to his lips. “No? The lord inquisitor, herald of Andraste? What a scandal!”

A sigh breaks the momentary calm. “I should have known that’s what this is about.”

“No. You don’t get to make those assumptions.” Dorian flashes a look at Kadan once more before returning his gaze to his father. “You know nothing about the inquisitor.”

“This is not what I wanted.”

“I’m never what you wanted, farther, or had you forgotten?”

Finally Kadan finds his voice rising. “So that’s what all this is about? Who you sleep with?”

“That’s not all it’s about.” Dorian replies. His voice falls to almost a whisper.

“Dorian. Please, if you only listen to me.”

“Why?” Dorian demands, his voice rising again. “So you can spout more convenient lies?”

He begins to pace, and if there’s one thing the inquisitor knows of Dorian for sure, it’s that when he begins to pace it’s because there’s something wrong. He walks around in circles, winding himself up until he finally explodes like the fire he wields.

“ _He_ taught me to hate blood magic. ‘The resort of the weak mind.’ Those wear _his_ words. But what was the first thing you did when your precious heir refused to play pretend for the rest of his life?”

Kadan had never seen him explode before. He was always careful to conceal anything that could be considered an outburst. There was no masking the tears now. There was no way to hide the way his voice shook, or the catch in his throat.

“You tried to _change_ me!”

“I only wanted what was best for you.”

“You wanted the best for _you!_ For your fucking legacy! Anything for that!”

The tears stream down his face now, as he turns away, gripping the bar. Kadan had been unsure earlier but he bounds over now, resting a protective hand on the mages back. “Come on, I think it’d be best if we left.”

“I agree.”

The magister doesn’t put up a fight, and neither of the mages look back as they leave the bar. Kadan reaches over Dorian to open the door, but not after he’s waited a few moments, allowing Dorian to wipe his face and compose himself.

“How’d it go?” Bull asks once they step out into the sunlight. Dorian doesn’t say a word; he instead favours striding off into the village, his arms wrapped close to him.

“As far as I can tell. Shit.” Is Kadan’s answer.

-

The travel back to Skyhold seems faster, perhaps it’s because the wind is at the parties backs, but the silence still holds heavy over them. Everyone is afraid to be the first to speak. Except Cole it seems. It is the day before you arrive back at Skyhold that he finally speaks up.

“’Love isn’t enough.’ Enough what? You didn’t explain, Dorian.”

He sighs. “I was rather hoping I had”

“ _His face in the stands, watching as I pass the test. So proud there’s tears in his eyes. Anything to make him happy. Anything._ Why isn’t that true anymore?”

“Cole, this… is not the sort of discussion I want right now. Please drop it.”

“I’m hurting you Dorian. Words winding, wanting, wounding. You said I could ask.”

“I know I did. The things you ask are just… very personal.”

“But it hurts. I want to help, but it’s all tangled with the love. I can’t tug it loose without tearing it. You hold him so tightly. You let it keep hurting, because you think hurting is who you are. Why would you do that?”

“Can someone tell him to stop? Banish him back to the fade or something?” He looks pointedly at Kadan when he says that.

The inquisitor would under other circumstances be tempted to tell Dorian he’s a big boy now, and he doesn’t need help fighting off spirits, but he was there, he knows that wounds have been reopened, they’re still raw, and for a little while at least Dorians wall is in need of some repair.

“He’s just trying to help. Maybe you should let him.”

“Marvellous! Everyone is so helpful!” Dorian groans, flipping the reins on his steed he trots a little way ahead.

“I only want to help, but I keep making it worse.”

“Just give him some time Cole. He needs time to heal first.”

-

“Dorian?” Kadan asks when they’re finally back at Skyhold. They haven’t really been alone since the tavern, and Dorian seems more than reluctant to talk about the events. He sighs as he stares out of the window in his little nook.

When he finally speaks, he barely turns away from the window. “He’s a good man my father. Deep down. He taught me principle is important. He cares for me in his way, but he won’t ever change. I can’t forgive him for what he did. I won’t.”

“Are you alright?”

“No, not really. Thank you, though. Maker knows what you must think of me now, after that whole display.”

“I think you’re very brave.”

“Brave?” He asks in surprise as if he had been expecting an entirely different answer.

“I know it’s not easy to abandon tradition and walk your own path. I think more highly of you, you know, if that were possible.”

“The things you say.” He smiles coyly and it’s a strange look on him, shy and uncertain, but one that suits him none the less.

“Dorian, you said he tried to change you?”

“Out of desperation, I wouldn’t put on a show, marry the girl, keep everything unsavoury private and locked away. Selfish I suppose, not to want to spend my entire life screaming on the inside. He was going to do a blood ritual. Alter my mind. Make me… Acceptable… I found out. I left.”

“It’s scary what blood magic can do.”

“I guess it might not have worked. There was a certain amount of risk involved.”

“I know the risk. Worse than tranquil really, never mind emotions gone, you lose other parts of you too. But that’s a risk some people are willing to take, sometimes unfortunately it’s not their own risk.”

“How- How would you know?”

“You’re not the only one with secrets.”

“I- I’m not sure what you mean by that. Should I be worried?” He questions with his eyebrows raised, arms folded tightly across his chest. Kadan knows this much of Dorian. If he was truly worried his arms wouldn’t be folded, he would have a spell on his lips, and his hands ready to fire whatever he conjured. Despite his question his body doesn’t show his worry.

“It’s not really a cause for concern.”

“Good. Then in that case, it’s time to drink myself into a stupor. It’s been that sort of week.”

“Mind if I join you?” The inquisitor chances, expecting full well to be rejected immediately. When he receives only silence he continues. “Josie got her hands on some bottles of ‘vint wine. I can bring up a bottle. Then you can decide if you want me as well, or just the wine.”

Dorian breathes sharply through his nose in a sort of laugh. “I’ll definitely have the wine. It’s got to be better than the piss they call drink around here.”

-

Kadan lounges in the pink chair that Dorian has already argued twice that evening is more Crimson in shade and therefore classified technically as red. The Qunari doesn’t care for that sort of thing. Red is red and pink is pink and this chair he is lounging in is fucking pink.

Dorian perches in the windowsill with a glass balanced on his knee, half-filled with his fourth generous glass of wine. They attempted to sneak down to the cellar after finishing the first bottle but alerted Solas, Varric and Bull along the way.

“I’ve got a marvellous view from up here. I can watch you roaming about Skyhold all day.” He chuckles quietly, his moustache twitching with the movement. “Here and there you run, checking in on all your followers. Why don’t they come to you, feed you grapes, rub your shoulders?”

“Is that an offer?”

“It is certainly not. It’s more fun this way. For me, I mean. You’re rather strapping.” Kadan raises an inquisitive eyebrow.

“Well, I’ve noticed you’re rather strapping yourself.”

“Of course you have, that only takes eyes.” He says waving off the compliment with his wine, the way he always does. One day the Qunari will find a way to make a compliment stick.

“Luckily I have eyes.”

“You do… A rather fetching pair.” This wasn’t Dorians usual level of flirting; his tone was soft, silken, not sultry. He wasn’t trying to seduce or tease, he was genuinely trying to complement.

“Thank you.”

“You know, I expected it.” He muses, swilling the wine in his fingers. Kadan didn’t need to ask what he referred to.

“I tried not to believe the rumours. I never believe rumours. At least if I convince myself everyone is straight I won’t have my heart broken when they say no.” Dorians grin softens until only a ghost of his former smile remains.

“Who’d have thought it? A ‘vint and an ox discussing their mutual issues in capturing the male species over a bottle of wine… unthinkable. Mother Giselle would have a field day, let me tell you that woman and her rumous, she _despises_ me.”

“ _Despises you?!”_ Kadan asks in mock horror. “But Dorian, how can anyone despise such a pretty face?”

“I know, and I have tried to tell her, repeatedly, but she just won’t listen.” He chuckles taking a larger mouthful of his wine than would be considered acceptable at a party, finishing off the glass, he begins to pour another.

“You are more than just a pretty face though.”

“More than-…” He splutters. “Vishante kaffas don’t go spreading such obvious lies.”

“Fuck off with your Tevene Vashedan. You’re a pretty person on the inside too and you are too scared to admit that, because then you’d have to admit there are other layers to you, and that means revealing secrets, trust me I know.”

He muses over it for a moment. “So you’ve learned an awful lot of me these past days. Care to divulge into some of your own past, like what you meant when you said it was a big deal in the imperium _too_ or your earlier comment about blood magic?”

“You don’t forget do you?”

“Not when you make it so glaringly obvious.” He shoots back.

Kadan folds his arms over his chest, debating for a moment whether or not he should Dorian all of this now. “I’m Aqun-Athlok.”

“Unfortunately I’m not as fluent in Qunari as you seem to be in every other language, so you may have to explain that.”

“I-… Another time perhaps. I’m not ready for it yet… And anyway, I don’t know every language, just the swear words.” Dorian rolls his eyes and makes a disgusted noise as if he had somehow been anticipating that answer, but his smile widens slightly.

A shiver runs down the smaller mages spine and he runs his fingers over his bare shoulder. Without a second thought Kadan rests his hand against the bare skin. It pimples under his warm touch, and another shiver runs down Dorians spine.

“Aren’t Qunari designed to live even further north than I, how can you be so warm, even in this climate?”

“I’ve spent most of my life in the south.  I think we’re just a pretty hot race anyway.” He makes a show of wiggling his eyebrows. Dorian makes a disgusted sound but smiles nonetheless. “If you keep on going you’ll turn into Cassandra.”

He lets out a short single laugh at that. “You know our Lord Seeker has a guilty pleasure for romantic fiction, and Varric’s at that.”

“Have you read any of his stuff?”

“Why have you?” He asks Kadan, his tone dipping into the range of condescending.

“One or two.” Dorian pulls that face again and before he can make a sound Kadan interjects, “If you make that noise one more time I’ll tell Cassandra she’s rubbing off on you. They’re not all that bad, I fancied myself a bit of a storyteller back with the mercs.”

“Really? Now I would ask to hear one of your stories but I’m far more interested in hearing which of Varric’s erotic friend fictions it is the dreaded Qunari has read. You’re not going to live this down.”

With a roll of his eyes Kadan answers, not before discarding his empty glass and taking several mouthfuls from the bottle. “You know he only wrote one romance series and it was a sappy girl meets guy kind of thing, the usual. I never read that. However, _Tale of the Champion_ is certainly worth a read.”

“What the Champion of Kirkwall? I’m sure I’ve seen a copy in the library…”

“It’s interesting. I can understand Hawke’s plight better now. Being dashingly witty and handsome and being named a hero like that.”

“Oh such a shame.” Dorian pouts mockingly, until another shiver runs down his spine.

Before he can protest the inquisitor rises to his feet and scoops the mage into his arms, returning both of them to the armchair. He receives a palm to the forehead and some swearing in Tevene and smiles knowingly, other than that he receives far less resistance than he’d expected. Dorian sighs eventually and relaxes into the embrace.

“Feeling warmer?”

“Yes. I am.” He states, but his tone is still sour. “You know inquisitor if you keep this up I’m sure your rumours will begin to circulate soon enough.”

“Let them circulate.”

“You won’t say that when your sober.”

“Probably not.” He chuckles. “But right now I’m drunk, and I have a very pretty mage in my arms and I could conquer anything.”

“What is it with you Qunari’s and conquering?” Dorian asks shifting in his arms. Kadan loosens his grip, allowing Dorian to leave if he wishes to, but instead the mage rests his head against his shoulder.

“I think it’s a base instinct. But I’m not really Qunari, I’m tal-Vashoth. I turned away from the Qun.”

“Why?” Dorian asked sleepily. “I guess them chaining and leashing mages didn’t appeal to you.”

“I’d at least want them to buy me dinner first.”

“Andante’s arse you’re as bad as Bull sometimes.” Dorian scolds but he chuckles too.

“We just had a difference in opinions.” He states shortly, hoping it will be enough, and thankfully, for now, the tired mage accepts it.

With a stretch of his limbs Dorian clambers to his feet, arching his back like a lazy cat until he hears a satisfying click.

“I think it’s about time I retire. It’s been… fun; we should finish off a bottle of wine together more often.” Kadan watches with a smirk as Dorian walks away, he is still evidently in control of his actions, but there is an exaggerated sway in his hips. “Not too often however.” He calls back. “We wouldn’t want rumours.”


	2. Unnecessary Rumours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You wouldn't want rumours." It was already too late, they had begun.
> 
> This explores some more of my inquisitors more personal storyline, something that you're unable to do in the game. Their relationship develops and there's a bit of sexy time, but it's not explicit.

Thanking the maker when Solas isn’t in sight, Kadan ascends the stairs to the library. Dorian had been correct in his assumptions, and apparently the rumours about the two of them had already been circulating before their trip to Redcliffe, the only difference was that in the week since their return the inquisitor had become aware of their existence.

Whenever he walked into a room it fell suddenly silent, of course the logical explanation was his new found fame, and his title, but his mind always shot to the mage. He humoured them far too much for his own good, wondered how things would be if they were true, if the herald of Andraste, a qunari, was bedding a Tevinter mage. There was more than enough scandal with the Orlesian politics and Grey Wardens; he didn’t need to add his own love affairs to the mix.

Dorians raised voice could already be heard from half way up the stairs.

“The inquisitor is a big boy; he can make his own decisions.”

 “Don’t play the fool with me young man!” The unmistakable sound of mother Giselle stated.

“If I wanted to play the fool, I could be rather more convincing, I assure you.”

“Your glib tongue does you no credit.” Kadan hangs back on the stairs for a moment, taking a steadying breath, knowing that the moment he steps into their line of sight one of the two parties will bring him into the argument.

“You’d be surprised at the credit my tongue gets me, your reverence.” Dorian says in his sultry tones. Kadan debates turning and running when he sees the way mother Giselle’s eyes widen at the comment. But it is too late, her wide eyes meet with his and he’s forced to step forward.

“Oh, I… Inquisitor.”

“What’s going on?” Kadan asks, feigning innocence, but the sideways glance Dorian gives him lets him know his entrance wasn’t as subtle as he’d hoped. His pause on the steps had been noted.

“It’s seems the Revered Mother is concerned about my “Undue influence” over you.” The inquisitor almost smiles, its true, but he knows that will only fan the flames.

“It _is_ just concern, your worship; you must know how this looks.”

He knows exactly how it all looks, and Dorian is a dear friend of his, but sometimes he would like more than anything to set his robes alight, now is one of those times, when the mage sarcastically says, “You might need to spell it out, my dear.”

The Revered Mother was never one for sarcasm, “This man is of Tevinter. His presence at your side, the rumours alone…”

Dorian has no quick remark to spit back, his lips sealed in a straight line, but his eyes are burning, and yet again Kadan finds himself thinking, if looks could kill.

“You don’t need to worry Mother, I’ve been keeping a _very_ close eye on Dorian.” The mage chuckles in the Quanris peripherals. “But I’d really like to hear what these rumours are?”

“I… could not repeat them, your worship.”

“Repeat them? So it wouldn’t be the first time you’d said them?”

“I… See. I meant no disrespect inquisitor, only to ask after this man’s intentions. If you feel he is without ulterior motive-”

“Which I do.”

“Then I humbly beg forgiveness of you both.” She bows her head courteously before leaving the library.

“Well that’s something.” Dorian states, still watching her chantry robes until she’s out of earshot.

“Did she get to you? For a minute there I thought you were going to set her on fire.”

“No, it takes more to get to me than thinly veiled accusations.”

“You don’t think she’ll do anything?”

“Do what? Yours is the good opinion I care about, not hers. I don’t know if you’re aware but the assumption in some corners is that you and I are… intimate.”

“I am aware.”

“See did I not tell you this would come? And I’m not surprised! ‘Keep a close eye on me’, it wouldn’t shock me to discover you’d started the rumours yourself, oh herald of Andraste.” He jokes, smiling to himself. “Us, intimate, whatever next?”

“Is us being intimate such a dreadful thing?” Kadan asks, rather offended by the tone of Dorians voice. It’s only when he says it that he realises its implications. He was simply trying to state that Dorian made him sound undesirable.

“I don’t know is it?” He asks; the surprise evident in his wide eyes seeps into his voice.

“Do you have to answer a question with a question?”

“Would you like me to answer in some other fashion?” In that same surprise, but there’s a sneer on his lips. Dorian isn’t one to back down in a battle of wits, and Kadan may be Qunari but he’s no mindless beast, not by a long shot.

Kadan barks a laugh. “If you’re capable.”

Dorians counter takes him off guard. A snide remark, a cruel judgement, pure sarcasm, he’d expected it all, but he hadn’t expected this. Dorians fingers grip the grey fabric on his chest, tugging him down. Their lips crush together for a few seconds, their tense muscles softening when they both realise that the other doesn’t intend to pull away. Dorian’s fingers slowly loosen their grip, and his lips linger for a second longer. But Kadan knows it’s his move. A large hand finds purchase on the small of Dorians back as their lips meet again, for longer this time, tan fingers wrap around his horn, pulling him further down.

Even when they pull away they don’t truly pull back, foreheads, lightly touching. Dorian’s face is teasingly close, his grey eyes darting in every direction, taking in every feature, his lips caught between his teeth. The hand on Kadan’s horn falls to his chest as Dorian chuckles. “’If you’re capable’ the nonsense you speak.”

“You realise this makes the rumours kind of true.”

“Evidently. We might have to explore the full truth of them later. In private.”

“Now _that_ was an invitation if ever I heard one.”

“Yes.” Dorian chuckles. “You may want to visit your quarters when you have the chance. There’s something there that might… interest you.”

Plucking a book from the top of one of one of his many piles Dorian saunters down the stairs instead of taking residence in his usual seat. As soon as he grabs the book Kadan can tell what it is that Dorian’s reading, _Tale of the Champion_ by one Varric Tethras. The cover is rather unmistakable.

 

There are piles of tasks that need to be completed around Skyhold that day, and Kadan finds himself with very little time of his own. Several Judgements need to be made and he slouches back in the throne as Josephine recounts how one man launched a goat at the ramparts. It’s one of the more entertaining moments of the day; the rest of it is planning, hunched over the war table. It’s all well and good for the advisors, but the Qunari has further to hunch to be able to see the operations and to try and decipher the Elven names that many cities in Orlais still hold.

When Kadan is finally able to retire to his quarters that night he half expects to be met by Dorian, still unsure whether it was playful teasing or a true invitation. His body is half thankful when he finds himself alone, his back aches and all he needs is sleep. He wished he could say that after an exhausting day he had a peaceful rest, but even as the herald he knew he wouldn’t be blessed with something so simple.

After tossing and turning restlessly for an hour he rises in defeat, adorning something other than the frankly hideous grey shit the inquisition make him wear, he’d seen Dorian turn his nose up at them, and he didn’t need any sort of fashion sense to be aware that the Skyhold issued outfit wasn’t at all fetching. Instead he pulled on his robes from his Valo-kas days. They’re simple blue robes, but they fit him like they’re made for a qunari, instead of something altered as a second thought.

He’s not sure where he wanders to, it’s completely aimless, but he finds himself in the courtyard, the tavern still open, light spilling from the windows and song pouring through the open door. The inquisitor’s eyes fall on the training ground. Perhaps some training practise wouldn’t hurt; it would certainly relieve some tension.

“Hey boss.” A familiar voice rumbles from the tavern.

“Bull” He says with a curt nod.

“You finally coming to have a few drinks, meet the guys?”

Kadan’s eyes flicker over to the targets then back to Bull, filling the entrance of the tavern. “Sure, a couple can’t hurt.”

The inquisitor follows him in, feeling relatively small behind the great Qunari, it’s a feeling he hasn’t had in a while. “We’re not drinking alone.” Bull announces. “How you doin’, Krem de la crème?”

“Your worship, I’m glad he has someone new to hit with that joke.”

“I can think of worst places to go with Cremisius.” He replies as he gratefully takes a flagon of whatever most of the company are drinking.

“So can the chief, believe me. He loves his nicknames.”

“Hey, when I was growing up my name was just a series of numbers. We all give each other nicknames under the Qun.”

“Do they ever wear shirts under the Qun, chief? Or do they just run around binding their breasts like that?”

“It’s a harness, Krem.”

“Yes, for your pillowy man bosoms. Let me know if you need help binding. You could really chisel something out of that overstuffed look.”

It takes Kadan aback for a moment. Sure there are rumours, there are signs, but it’s the same as it was with Dorian, he never wanted to believe them until he knew the truth. “Wait are you- I didn’t realise.”

“You didn’t realise? Well great, now we can all talk about it.”

“In Qunandar, Krem’d be Aqun-Athlok.” Bull begins to explain but Kadan cuts him short.

“Trust me, I, uh, know a lot more about that than you’d think.” Bull pulls a face he can’t quite decipher.

“You ever thought of using magic to change Krem?”

“No, wouldn’t want magic like that within ten yards of my body.”

“I don’t blame you.” Kadan sighs. “So these are your guys bull?”

“Yep, or what’s left of them. A lot of ‘em went looking for stronger drink. There a crazy bunch of assholes, but they’re mine.”

“You sound like a proud tamassran.” Kadan comments and it coaxes a chuckle from the beaten and scarred warrior.

The company are a strange bunch, he must admit, but he wouldn’t rather have anyone else with the inquisition. An exiled dwarf with explosives knowledge, a dalish apostate (and Kadan new an apostate when he saw one, he was one himself), a healer with a supposedly edible poultice, an elf with a little too much passion for killing ‘shems’, and grim. Grim was a man of few words.

“So you take in anyone?”

“Anyone who can carry their weight in a fight.”

“And who can put up with your bullshit chief.”

There was a round of laughter and Kadan wasn’t too sure who began singing until the whole company was joined together in happily in song. “ _No man can beat the Chargers ‘cos we’ll hit you where it hurts. Unless you know a tavern with loose cards and looser skirts! For every bloody battlefield, we’ll gladly raise a cup! No matter what tomorrow holds, our horns be pointing up_!”

Kadan laughs happily at the show. “They seem like good guys.”

“They are. So how about you? You had a company, how did you put yours together?”

“Like you, took in anyone who could take care of themselves…” He spots the Bulls second in command and can’t hold back questions. “So, about Krem?”

“He’s a good soldier, and a better second in command. The troops need someone to complain to when I’m being a hard ass, he’s good for that.”

Kadan downs the rest of his first flagon, reaching for a second before he continues. He chooses his words carefully; he’s looking for a specific reaction. “You don’t have a problem with him being a woman?”

“ _He’s_ not a woman.” Bull says sternly. “Look, you and I have to walk carefully so we don’t accidentally break the furniture or the elves. We’re probably not the best people to go around deciding what’s normal. Krem’s a good man. I don’t give a nug’s ass if it’s a little harder for him to piss standing up.”

The second flagon is gone in seconds and Kadan knows that Bull can see there’s something wrong. He’s ben-Hassrath, he’s trained to see minute changes, but the unease is plastered across the qunari’s face.

“You’re bad at hiding boss.” Bull leans forward in his seat, his eye squinting as he looks over the qunari, it’s a threat, he knows it.

“Bull, blood magic is really fucked up. It can do some weird shit. It _did_ some weird shit.” Kadan explains, hoping that it might suffice as some sort of answer. He’s a qunari he knows they’re far more intelligent than many would give them credit for.

“Blood magic?” He asks leaning back in his chair, he’s calmer than most people would have been on the subject, and Kadan knows it’s only because Bull’s caught on. Calmed slightly Kadan takes another drink. Bull’s eye wanders down to the inquisitors crotch before shooting back up, he raises an eyebrow is question before actually asking, “Does it actually work?”

“Yeah, it worked. Better than expected.”

“Does Dorian know you magicked up your dick?”

It’s not the question the inquisitor had been expecting and it takes him completely by surprise, choking on his drink. He looks up at Bull with a blush spreading to the tips of his pointed ears, a rumbling laugh breaks from the warrior as he claps a hand on the inquisitors back. Had he been human that hand would have broken him in two, as it is it just leaves him stinging a little.

“So it’s true? The two of you-…”

“What- No, no! No, we’re just friends, we’re very good friends, but just friends, well, for now…”

“’For now’, you sly dog! You know he was reading outside earlier, watching the soldiers battering each other, sipping on a glass of wine, grinning from ear to ear. That wouldn’t be your work now, would it?”

“I might have had something to do with it… I think, it’s time I head back to bed, I was just coming out to clear my head.”

Bull chuckles as he withdraws his hand from the heralds back. “You’re both good guys, whatever you’ve got going on, or not got, I hope it works out. If you need to chat about anything boss, I’m here.”

“Thanks… Tama.” He punches Bull’s arm lightly receiving that rumbling laugh and a stronger fist in reply.

“Thanks for coming by boss. Glad you could meet some of my team.”

When he stands he’s pleased to find that his head is only slightly foggy and he’s still in complete control of his feet. His walk back to his quarters is extremely uneventful, and it’s unsurprising. He can’t imagine the tavern being open much longer, the night is late and everyone has already retired to bed, Skyhold is at rest.

Taking the steps two at a time, the only way he can take them with his height, he’s soon in his room and feeling far more relaxed than the first time he attempted sleep. He’s about to relieve himself of his robes when he hears the voice.

“So…” He turns quickly, instincts telling him to jump for his staff, but every fibre of his body stays put. Especially when his eyes fall on the man sauntering into his bed chamber. “It’s all very nice, this flirting business. I am however, not a nice man.”

As the Qunari’s heart steadies Dorian draws ever closer, a wicked smirk on his lips. “So here’s my proposal, we dispense with the chit chat and move onto something more, primal. It’ll set tongues wagging of course. Not that they’re already wagging.”

He steps ever closer, his fingers curling around Kadan’s horns, pulling his face down so that their cheeks brush and his lips are against his ear. The qunari is frozen, not out of fear, he’s not sure what holds him in place, lust perhaps, but surely that would make him ache to reach out for Dorian. Instead he remains rooted against his desk.

“I suppose it really depends. How bad does the inquisitor want to be?” Dorian’s hot breath against his ear smells ever so faintly of red wine. So inviting, so demanding.

“Dorian.” Kadan sighs as he side steps out of the vice that is Dorian and his desk. He’s going to regret this, and he already hates himself for it. If he’d never had that conversation with Bull he would have let this happen, but Dorian has a right to know. And now doesn’t seem like the time. “I think we’re moving a little too fast.”

“Fast? By my standards we’ve been positively chaste. Next you’ll be telling me you want a relationship.” He says the word with distaste, and it puts Kadan on edge for a moment.

“Is that so horrific?” He asks. The surprise in Dorian’s features actually startles him. “You’re speechless?”

“Yes. It doesn’t happen often. Where I come from, anything between men… it’s physical, it doesn’t go beyond that. It’s not that you don’t care you just… Don’t hope for more.”

“You _should_ hope for more.”

“You say that like it’s a simple thing. I have no examples with which to compare.”

“So… Do you want to call this off?”

“No! It’s just… You’re asking me to turn into a unicorn, and I don’t even know want one looks like.”

“I’m not asking you to change Dorian.” He says softly. He knows that all too well, having to change.

“Fine. I am, however, not leaving your quarters empty handed. I demand a simple answer and a kiss; it’s a matter of pride you see.”

Kadan’s heart flutters again as the mage steps forward, pulling his face down with an unnecessarily muscular arm around his neck. Without the prying eyes of the chantry and other users of the library there was very little holding them back. It showed. Kadan was met with no resistance when he ran his tongue along Dorian’s; instead the mage wrapped his other arm around the qunari’s waist.

“Hm.” The inquisitor hums pulling away from the kiss. If he continues this any longer his resolve will break. “What was the answer you wanted?”

“Aqun-Athlok, you said it to me the other day.” Dorian answers as he pulls away from the inquisitor, sensing that he has received half of his demand. He rests against the desk, chin resting on finger and thumb in the usual pensive way.

“You were wondering what it meant.” After the effort to avoid the conversation it still came back to this. Even if he was the herald of Andastre he certainly wasn’t blessed.

“Not exactly. I managed to find the definition after a great deal of research. I regret to inform you though that the answer may not be as simple as I promised. I’m curious as to whether this,” He gestures to the inquisitors whole body in one sweep of his hand. “Is the result of blood magic.”

“Wait. When you say you know what it means…”

“Born one gender but living like another.” He says it like he’s stating it from the Qun. “But that’s not quite you. You’re not _living_ like the other, you _are.”_

“Aqun-Athlok _are_ whatever gender they live as, it doesn’t matter what’s down there.”

“Yes, I- I understand that, but you’re not the same, or maybe you are… What I mean is unless you intend to really surprise me, you have the anatomy of a male qunari, all the bits and pieces in the right places. That beard of yours dictates as much. However you were born, you stand before me now in mind and in body as a male, correct?”

“Correct.” Kadan answers tentatively.

“So my question is; the blood magic you spoke of, is this the result of it?” Dorian’s uneasy; it’s glaringly obvious, even without the way he runs his fingers through his hair Kadan could have assumed the subject of blood magic would have conjured some unsavoury memories.

“Yes.” Dorian frowns at the lack of explanation.

“Care to explain further?”

“Not particularly. I’ve never made a deal with a demon myself; it’s a dark part of my life I would rather put behind me, but it was necessary. Just know I only put myself in danger, I was willing to sacrifice myself and nobody else along the way, I would put nobody in harm’s way for my sake. If you want to call this off..?”

“You’re so self-effacing.” Dorian sighs, “No wonder you’re the hero. I don’t want to call this off, and that’s the second time you’ve asked me this evening. How about we make it thrice for good luck and I ask if you wish to continue with whatever this endeavour is?”

“Definitely. I was so worried about telling you, prepared for you to run away when you found out.”

“Would you have stopped me?”

“No.”

“I don’t know what you got yourself into, but I trust you, Kadan. Against what my better judgement says, please don’t prove me a fool… And I don’t plan on running anywhere, I get all hot and bothered, it’s not becoming.”

“I’d quite like to see you hot and bothered.”

“Now inquisitor you can’t turn me away and then go saying things like that. Getting my hopes up again only to have them dashed. Are you trying to get me into your bed?” He jokes.

“I don’t know am I?” He asks.

“Do you have to answer a question with a question?” Dorian asks a grin splitting his lips.

“Would you like me to answer in some other fashion?” Kadan retorts, quoting Dorian from the day previous, he understands where this is heading; he knows that if so it will be his move.

 “If you’re capable.” Dorian replies, it’s not the taunting remark that Kadan made, this is soft, sultry, inviting. It holds the same air that he held when he entered the room earlier. Dorian steps closer, anticipating the counter move.

Their lips crash together hungrily, hands roam with purpose pulling loose latches and buckles, removing layer after layer. There’s no time to leave them neatly, the clothing remaining wherever it falls, until they are both bare. A hand against his chest and a wicked smile presses Kadan back until he’s lying across the bed. It’s a sight he won’t soon forget, Dorian is beautiful, he knew as much, but seeing him stripped bare, his legs straddling the qunari’s waist, it only gives ground to his beliefs.

It’s all so unnecessary, his coffee skin stretched over sculpted muscles that no human mage needs with the power within. That curled moustache, styled and trimmed so perfectly, so unnecessarily.  That beauty spot on his right cheek, it can’t be real, unnecessary. He loves it all. He needs it, craves every last inch of beauty inside and out.

It’s becoming a necessity.


End file.
